Lubov Sverdlova (O.P.)

It is easy to dismiss Blue Ruin as predictable, both in characters and the plot line, and in too many places the prose does rely on cliches, although at other times Hari Kundzu’s descriptions of a character’s intonation or a nature scene are concise and insightful, so, unlike the NYT reviewer, I did not find Blue Ruin entirely unenjoyable in terms of its plot or style. But for me both the plot and the secondary characters were just a scaffolding to support what for me was the most valuable and unexpected - a very gradual understanding of motives of a true “performance artist”, meaning someone who is genuinely driven by a desire to explore the far edges of concepts and society norms. Before Blue Ruin conceptual and performative art seemed to me entirely theoretical and dispassionate, driven by an idea of “let’s try anything and take any result as profound”, in other words it seemed unnecessary and artificial. The protagonist of Blue Ruin gradually drew me into his head, so to speak, and helped me see what can actually make a sincere person do what these artists do, at least those few who do not sellout, follow the latest fad and are the focus of ridicule of this book. This glimpse into the inner world of a modern artist may not even have been the main point of this novel, but novels worth reading are known to connect with different readers in different ways.